


Potential to Spark

by nik_aroo



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Awkward Crush, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Warnings May Change, even the summary may change my dudes im going in BLIND
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nik_aroo/pseuds/nik_aroo
Summary: In the thick of war and grief, a new friendship holds a lot of potential. (haha name drop get it?)
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn/Zekhan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	Potential to Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UmiAzuma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmiAzuma/gifts).



> Andukhan is too cute and irresistible so I had to write. Also, Discord people are enablers. Filthy, filthy enablers.  
> I'm not entirely certain where or how this fic will go, so the tags are sparse and the rating/warning is shaky at best. We shall see. Bear with me here.

The meager army set out not long after Anduin and Saurfang called them to their feet. So few soldiers meant so few supplies that needed to be packed. Thus, even with intermittent rain and a momentary spattering of hail, the caravan was on its way by the time dawn broke.

Anduin was atop Reverence, flanked by Jaina and Shaw on horseback. Slightly ahead and to the right of him was Saurfang atop a direwolf, flanked by Thrall and - curiously - a troll that the King did not recognize. 

Many of the other Horde members he could at least recognize - from stories, descriptions, and accounts of battles from briefings, or simply from meeting them himself before. But this troll, uncommonly small for a people who regularly reached 8 feet tall, and who radiated that kind of naiveté that could only be born of youth, rode right beside Saurfang. In fact, since Anduin had noticed him, the troll seemed to be glued to the Overlords side. 

Despite the dire mood, Anduin couldn’t help but be boyishly intrigued. If only to keep his mind off said dire mood.  _ Who are they? What makes them notable enough to be marching even before Rexxar? Lor’themar? _ Saurfang had made no mention of the troll in his letters, and in all the reports he’d received he’d not learned of the Darkspear gaining a new… leader? No, much too young - did Rokhan have offspring? Was that it?

Well, no sense asking such questions only in his head when he could  _ actually _ ask them. Without taking his eyes off the troll, he spoke “Master Shaw?”

There was the sound of hooves beside him as Mathias urged his horse forward to better speak with the King “Your Majesty?”

“Who is that troll?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mathias glance subtly to where Anduin was looking. Not that the subtlety mattered, Anduin not bothering to hide his gaze. The spy’s eyes returned forward not a second later, and he seemed to ruminate for a moment - no doubt mentally flipping through his immense wealth of knowledge. Anduin’s anticipation grew the longer he didn’t respond.

“I’m not sure, sire.” Mathias said hesitantly.

Anduin’s eyes finally broke from the Darkspear to look at Shaw in barely veiled surprise “Really?”

Shaw nodded minutely and gave a tiny shrug of a shoulder.

“Huh.” Anduin muttered dumbly, eyes wandering back to the troll with even more interest than before. 

Assessing that this was all that was going to be asked of him, Mathias fell back into step slightly behind Anduin. Not before giving the King an odd look - no more than a slightly raised eyebrow and a quirk of a mustache, but Anduin knew him well enough to tell the spy was questioning him.

He couldn’t help it. It took his mind off what they were marching towards. The odds were grim, strongly tipped out of their favor, and Anduin was quite desperately trying to keep his hopes up; a near-impossible task if he thought about the intimidating, impenetrable walls of Orgrimmar for longer than a minute. Pondering about a trolls mysterious presence was a much more reliable way to occupy his mind than trying to count how many intact cobblestones were left on the decrepit road.

So, SI:7 not having knowledge on whoever they were meant for sure that they weren’t in some important position - leaving the only other explanation to be that they were somehow close with Saurfang. It certainly did seem so, with the way the troll shadowed the High Overlord. They’ve not kept Saurfang out of their sight for the duration of the march, and even before that. The troll was diligent, to say the least. What an unlikely pair. If it had been any other time, Anduin might have asked Saurfang about it.

A cacophonous screech from the undergrowth startles Anduin out of his thoughts - and everyone else out of theirs for that matter. Hands fly to weapons, people gasp in alarm, magic hums to life as all nearby eyes fly to the shrubbery - which a gaggle of frightened wind serpents appear from not a second later. They take to the sky with panicked wingbeats, then the bushes just to the right of Saurfang rustle, and he tenses in anticipation. In a heartbeat, Zekhan urges his raptor forward with a kick, inserting himself between the Overlord and the perceived threat, hands crackling with energy.

Before anyone has the chance to hurl a fireball, one last wind serpent bursts from the plant and joins its brethren in the sky. It’s dead silent after that.

A collective sigh of relief ripples down the procession. A soldier or two chuckle, but it feels half-hearted, more nerves than any actual amusement. Anduin shares the sentiment.

The only one who doesn’t immediately untense is the troll. Circles of magic still hover around his hands, tiny sparks flying between his fingers, head whipping about as he scans the undergrowth.

“Zekhan.” Saurfang says, looking up at the troll with concern. The troll - Zekhan, Anduin notes - startles at being addressed, lightning in his hands fizzling out. He stares at the bush for a moment longer before sighing and turning to the orc behind him. Saurfang says something to him that Anduin can’t make out and the troll shakes out his hands before nodding jerkily.

Saurfang’s eyes linger on the troll as he guides his raptor back into place and the march continues as if nothing had happened. 

They walk until the wet plants of the marsh transition into the dry yellow grass of the plains, and the sun goes from directly overhead to setting in the West. All the while the troll rides with his head hung low, looking as if he had retreated far into his head. Anduin and Saurfang both periodically send worried glances his way that go entirely unnoticed. 

Finally, it seems Saurfang can stand it no longer, for as night descends upon them he slows his direwolf to be abreast with the raptor. Saurfang says something and Zekhan startles - seemingly only just noticing the orc beside him. They exchange words in orcish that are too hushed for Anduin to hear. Then, Saurfang releases one hand from the reins of his wolf and reaches up to tap the side of his fist to the troll's leg - the only place he can reach with the differences in height. Zekhan smiles nervously around his tusks. Saurfang urges his wolf forward once more, back to leading the pack. But once Saurfang is ahead, the grin falls from the trolls face and he stares at the orcs back. He looks concerned. 

So Anduin’s assessment had been correct - Saurfang and Zekhan were close, for unknown reasons. It’s strangely… sweet. An odd pair. It brings an unbidden little smile to his face.

Of course, that’s when the troll happens to glance in his direction, his ears perking up in surprise. Anduin’s first instinct was to jerk his gaze away, stomach tightening at being caught staring. However, he’d been trained well enough in royal manners to know that would be even more damning than the alternative. He wills his expression to neutrality and nods minutely in acknowledgment as if he hadn’t just been openly gawking at the young troll for the better part of the trek. 

Zekhan pauses, his eyes darting from Anduin, to the soldiers behind him, to his mount - as if in disbelief. His fingers were rubbing together nervously. Anduin guesses he’s trying to gauge what sort of response he was supposed to give when the High King of the Alliance had been openly staring at you and gave you a bro nod. Lips pursed, Zekhan hand goes into a fist and he begins to raise it to his chest before he freezes and abruptly recourses to flatten his hand and settle it to his brow. The angle is off, elbow much too low, and his body is awkwardly twisted in his saddle in order to face Anduin. 

Anduin has to suppress a laugh - not out of mockery, but out of genuine amusement. Never in his life did he think he’d consider a  _ troll _ to be  _ cute _ but he really couldn’t call the clumsy attempt at proper respect to be anything but. In an effort to ease the trolls embarrassment, Anduin makes a show of thinking for a long moment - lip quirking and eyes going skyward - before doing a purposefully flawed approximation of a troll salute.

Zekhan is much less skilled in holding back his laughter - a tiny puff of a laugh slips out before his eyes widen, mortified, and it morphs into a gasp. His ears drop and he looks as if he’s about to spew apologies for the next ten minutes, clearly thinking he’d committed some unforgivable atrocity - so Anduin saves him the trouble with a wave of his hand and a reassuring smile.

Zekhan visibly deflates with relief, hand unconsciously coming to rest over his (no doubt pounding) heart. He breathes deeply for a moment before smiling giddily at Anduin - and something about that smile is infectious because Anduin, who had been trying hard all this time to at least keep himself  _ somewhat _ tactful and diplomatic, accidentally slips into a bright, genuine smile.

Zekhan looks taken aback for a moment before his smile grows wider and he quickly looks away, fidgeting in his saddle. 

Who knew trolls blushed purple? Certainly not Anduin. Yet again, Anduin finds himself endeared to the troll. He faces ahead once more, smile still firmly in place for a good half-mile afterward.

**Author's Note:**

> Inner Zekhan monologue, for those that desire it: Oh, Loa, the king's looking at me. Oh LOA he just nodded. What do I do? What are the human customs? Do I salute? The human salute? Or do I BOW? HOW DEEP? Don't I bow until my head is below his? I can't do that he's 2 feet below me, I'd fall, and I'm already dying inside. Fuck. I've been quiet too long. Okay. I'll just do my best.


End file.
